


the seventh knight's tale

by celestexists



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:27:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26317150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celestexists/pseuds/celestexists
Summary: Once upon a time, a knight slayed the dragon that ruled over the land.This is the story of what comes before and after, and everything in between.
Relationships: Beverly Marsh/Kay McCall
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	the seventh knight's tale

**Author's Note:**

> There is a [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/43aZDwXWGMF1eUYfaUTBSg?si=SUmvB95LRZu1b1-AgbvKXw)! I recommend listening in order as there is a Progression, of sorts.

i.

Princess Beverly was born on a sunset during the deep of winter, her cries louder than the howling winds outside the castle walls. Later, the nursemaid will tell the young princess, _this is why you have such beautiful crimson hair._

Outside, the fearsome dragon circled the turrets, its wings glinting like rubies despite the cold.

*

Kay recognizes her the instant she enters the inn—by feel first, rather than sight. Though if she were being truthful, she sensed the presence of this particular visitor the moment she stepped foot in the woods of the Barrens.

She looks up from the bartop she’s wiping with a ready smile when the dark-haired maiden approaches. Kay takes in the ash-covered bronze armor and the copper sword by her waist. Her eyes are the color of shadowed trees, her gaze unseeing even as she looks back at Kay.

“Good evening,” Kay starts, when it seems the armored maiden will not speak. “Can we offer you lodgings for the night? Or a hot meal perhaps?”

“Thank you,” she finally replies in a low voice. “And yes, on both counts. But reserve the room for me for the foreseeable future. A fortnight, to start.”

At Kay’s momentary hesitation, the maiden’s eyes focus. Kay feels the hair on her arms rise from the attention. “I can pay, if that is what troubles you,” the maiden adds with a charming smile.

“Forgive me,” Kay hurries to say. “Not many stay in the Barrens for more than a night or two. Do you have pressing business here in our part of the woods?”

“Something like that.”

“Well, I wish you luck, my lady,” Kay says cheerfully. “I’m Kay, the innkeeper. At your service.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Kay,” she says politely, still with that practiced, pretty smile. “And please. Call me Everlyn.”

ii.

King Marsh the Flame was first of his name, though no one knew how he came to power. Some said he was the first and only successor of King Robert the Gray, because King Robert had no heir and because he greatly admired Marsh’s powers. Others said Marsh took the throne from King Robert by force with his dragon form.

But this was a truth: Derry has lived under a terrible shadow since men ruled over it. Now, the land and its people burned in terror under the wingspan of the new dragon-king.

*

Kay claps her hands in rhythm as the bard performs his song, joining in the boisterous laughter as the lyrics take a bawdy turn.

The atmosphere in the halls is celebratory and the people are in high spirits. Everyone drinks, and eats, and is merry. At the center with the rest of the guests, Everlyn dances, the brightest light in Kay’s inn.

Everlyn didn’t have any clothes aside from her armor, and so Kay and her servants had fetched a fortnight’s worth of clothing at the lady’s request. Tonight, Everlyn wears a white, loose blouse and wide muslin skirt that twirls with her as she turns in lively circles with Adrian and Don. Kay saw the two men ask Everlyn to dance with them as she ate her supper. To Kay’s surprise, and the men’s judging from their faces, Everlyn accepted.

She still dances now, this time arm-in-arm with Alice, Kay’s right hand at the inn. Everlyn tilts her head back, mouth open wide with laughter. Loose strands of her braided hair cling like black silk to her sweat-sheened face.

Alone, Everlyn holds herself like a noble lady. From the way she talks and walks, sits and stands. From her commanding voice to her unflappable poise. But now, while she sings the next verse along with the bard and dances with the guests, Everlyn moves as if she were born and raised common her whole life.

Kay smiles at Alice’s starry gaze at Everlyn. There is certainly nothing _common_ about Everlyn the lady.

“Ah, Kay,” Adrian sighs from where he’s leaning against the bar, his tankard pointed in Kay’s direction. “Just ask her to dance, will you.”

She raises an eyebrow. “But then who will fetch you your drink, hmm?”

Adrian smiles rakishly. “Alice will keep my drink filled.”

“Alice is—”

“Kay,” Everlyn’s sudden presence is like a gust of wind, unpredictable and moving. She holds out a slender hand. “Would you care for a dance?”

Alice takes her place behind the counter, looking as windswept and flushed as Kay feels.

“If it pleases you, my lady,” Kay says, as she crosses the bar. Behind her, Adrian laughs quietly in his drink.

“Everlyn,” she corrects with a grin. “And only if it pleases _you_ , lady innkeeper.”

Kay takes Everlyn’s hand. Everlyn’s fingers catch against the soft underside of Kay’s wrist. Kay tries not to startle at the jolt of warmth from the contact.

“Apologies. Swordsman’s calluses,” Everlyn murmurs in explanation. She places her other hand high on Kay’s waist.

“They don’t bother me,” Kay smiles, curving one palm on Everlyn’s shoulder and the other in Everlyn’s hand. “I have many innkeeper’s calluses of my own, if you can’t tell.”

Everlyn did not smile, but her eyes were sharp and laughing. “So you do.”

They move across the halls silently for a time, the bard’s ballad slow and ardent. This close, Kay can see the beads of sweat rolling down Everlyn’s temples, the slight thumb’s width indent of her chin, the fullness of her bottom lip.

Everlyn isn’t a gust of wind, she’s a pulsing flame pressed against the entirety of Kay and Kay feels unbearably and breathlessly alive.

“If I may ask, how do you find our inn, Everlyn?” Kay asks a moment after Everlyn releases then clasps her again.

Another pause, another twirl. “I find it enchanting,” Everlyn answers. The merry lanterns bathe her profile in shadows. “And you, lady innkeeper? How do you find the celebrations?”

“You mean the dragon’s defeat?” She asks, even though no other event has been celebrated for the last sennight across the kingdom.

“The dragon-king’s death, yes,” Everlyn confirms, her voice light as a feather.

Everlyn is only slightly taller than her, so Kay takes the time to study the hollow of her throat. The smooth alabaster skin, the column of her neck, the wingspan of her collarbone.

“I find it lifts the people’s spirits,” Kay says, glancing up at Everlyn. “But there is still work to be done yet.”

At this, Everlyn throws her head back and laughs. “So there is,” Everlyn agrees, just as the ballad ends.

iii.

Like all tales such as this, Princess Beverly was the fairest maiden in all the land. Aside from her crown, she wore no jewelry with her royal gowns—she needed no such accentuation. Her skin glowed softly like the blush of dawn, her freckles a smattering constellation. Her eyes were bright and welcoming like the green fields spread along the kingdom. When she spoke, nightingales wept with envy.

But all agreed that Beverly’s greatest beauty was her hair, a red so deep that some men fell in love with the princess at first glance. She never left it unbound during public appearances, keeping it tightly braided and pinned up.

King Marsh allowed suitors brave enough to face the dragon to court his daughter. But many nobles whispered behind their hands that he allowed them, only so Princess Beverly turned them down herself. Her voice so sweet, her words so gentle, the rebuffed suitors were said to leave whilst sighing dreamily, just at the pleasure of gazing upon the princess.

*

“How many ways must I say no before you believe that your attentions are neither welcome or appreciated?” The words are as mild as a steel blade drawn at the ready.

“But my lady—”

Everlyn glances up from spooning her porridge. “You do not have leave to call me your lady. Return to your companions and I will to mine. Before the day is ruined for us both.”

“Kay,” Alice whispers from beside her, as they watch Borin trudge back to his table. “What did the lady say?”

“Nothing that concerns us,” Kay replies and resumes untying her apron. “Mind the guests.”

As soon as Kay is outside, she breathes in the smell of summer and crushed grass. Streams of light penetrate through the thick tree canopies. It is cooler than usual, especially for midday. The turn of the season is near.

Her vegetable patch is just big enough to grow food for her inn during the lean season. She checks the vining crops first; the tomatoes supported by the left fence, then the summer squash on the right. Then she sees after the rounded beds that grow peas, leaf lettuce, and carrots.

“You have a lovely garden.”

Kay stands from where she’s crouched down. Everlyn has changed from this morning’s tunic and trousers to her bronze armor. Her bow and quiver is slung over one shoulder and her sword tied to her waist. Kay has not seen Everlyn wear a visor once since she first came to the Barrens.

Everlyn has been at the inn for a fortnight now, and has paid for her room another fortnight yet just before her mid-day meal. She comes and goes at odd hours, though she always brings back small game from her excursions, like rabbit and pheasant. She’s gained the habit of asking Cook to make her supper with the meat, in exchange of shares of her spoils.

Everlyn doesn’t speak of what she looks for when she goes into the woods. And Kay doesn’t ask.

She’s become a fixture in the inn, though the idea unsettles Kay. Everlyn is charming when she wants to be, drawing people in and holding court during the evenings. She partakes in the rounds of storytelling after supper, and her tales of adventures often involve knights and their amazing feats of bravery.

But Everlyn is a master of diverting the attention from herself. She answers differently every time someone asks why she’s come to the Barrens, of all places. She laughs when someone praises her skill with the bow and arrow. She waves a hand and buys a round of drinks for everyone when someone notes how wonderful her stories are, and what a wonderful storyteller she is. She teases when Cook demands how she catches game every single time she comes back to the inn.

“My mother once told me never to give too much to the plants under my care,” Kay says.

“How so?” Everlyn steps forward. Her armor doesn’t make a sound as she moves.

“Even a tree’s roots can rot, if you overwater it,” Kay answers. “It’s not about what the gardener wants to give, but what the plant needs. Providing what it needs is enough for it to thrive.”

Everlyn smiles. “Your mother is very wise.”

“She taught me everything I know,” Kay murmurs. Then after a pause, Kay adds, almost reluctantly, “She’s been gone for years now. But her passing still stuns me, at the most unexpected time.”

She only sees the slight widening of Everlyn’s eyes because of how closely she’s looking at Everlyn’s face.

“The passing of a parent is always difficult,” says Everlyn, her face smooth as glass.

“Isn’t it?” Kay smiles. “Grief is unpredictable like that.”

“I’ve learned it wears a different face with each encounter, yes.”

“And you, Everlyn?” Kay asks tentatively after a moment. “May I ask after your parents?”

“My mother died when I was very young, I barely remember her,” she answers. “Though many remark that we have the same face and coloring.”

She must have been beautiful, is what Kay doesn’t say. Everlyn in all likelihood has heard the sentiment a thousand times in a thousand ways.

“Did your parents leave you anything behind?” Everlyn inquires curiously. “Such as the inn, perhaps?”

“I didn’t know my father, and my mother and I didn’t have much. But her words of wisdom are worth their weight in gold,” Kay laughs. “The inn is mine, though my mother’s words helped in the making of it.”

“You must be a very propitious innkeeper, to have made this all yourself,” Everlyn notes, smiling back. “How long has the inn been standing?”

Kay goes motionless. Everlyn clearly notices, because she tilts her head, her smile still in place.

From where she stands in her vegetable patch, she feels the thrum of energy in the halls. The scraping of the chairs, the quiet chatter of guests. She can smell the stew Cook is preparing for supper, and the kitchen is bustling with activity. The lodgings are quiet, except for Alice and a few of the cleaning girls wandering in and out of the rooms.

Kay thinks of her mother’s gift to her, while she lay in her deathbed. She thinks of how loss and grief go hand in hand, both unpredictable in how it shows its face.

“A year,” Kay reveals, lacing her fingers together to keep them from clenching into fists. “A year and a season, by this autumn.”

Everlyn leans back on her heels. “I see.”

“And you?” Kay can’t help the words tumble out. “How long have you been armored with bronze?”

Unexpectedly, Everlyn’s smile widens. “A year and a season, by this autumn, my lady innkeeper,” she answers.

Kay stares at her—this confusing, compelling, and unpredictable maiden.

Everlyn glances up at the sky. “I’m afraid I must leave you now, Kay,” she bows her head. “I’d like to circle the woods before dark.”

“Of course,” Kay manages. “May the gods and goddesses be with you.”

She waves a hand at that. “Oh, I really hope not,” she says sincerely.

It’s as she’s disappearing into the shadows that Kay realizes that Everlyn never once mentioned her father.

iv.

Her father the king guarded her jealously, a dragon with its treasure hoard. At all times, Beverly was accompanied by six loyal knights. But the king had unknowingly given Beverly a gift, for the loyalty of these six knights gradually shifted from the king to the princess.

From Stanley the Wise, Beverly was given the truth of what’s become of Derry outside the palace walls and under her father’s reign. From Michael the Gentle, she received the knowledge and skill to survive in the wilderness. From Edward the Brave, the princess mastered wielding both sword and dagger. From Benjamin the Noble, Beverly learned to fly arrows straight and to keep her aim true. From Richard the Brash, the princess delighted in common folk songs and poems that cannot be found in the royal library. And from William the Great, she saw a vision for a kingdom that thrived and did not burn.

Built in secrecy and shadows, it was a friendship of equals amongst the seven. In turn, Beverly gave them hope for a better ruler and future, and all the love her heart had to give.

*

As the days cooled and the nights lengthened, Everlyn became impossible to ignore or avoid. And Kay is unsettled to realize that either paths of action repel her. She’s as drawn to Everlyn as the rest of her guests, though perhaps not for the same reasons.

Everlyn comes down from the stairs and takes her usual seat on the bartop, legs swinging freely. The first time she sat there, Kay just stared at her in disbelief, and Everlyn stared back, smiling and waiting for Kay to wave her away.

Kay glances up at her. Everlyn’s hair is unbound, and it spills over her shoulders and bare arms like an evening waterfall. “I’m taking a stroll in the woods this afternoon,” Kay says, ignoring the dryness of her mouth. “Would you care to join me?”

Everlyn has taken to accompanying Kay in her garden for a few moments every day. Sometimes she is content to watch Kay work the soil. And sometimes they talk—mostly about nothing, than anything. But this is the first time Kay has invited Everlyn to an engagement, and Everlyn’s smile is openly pleased and caught off guard.

“I’d be honored, my lady innkeeper.”

Kay is distracted for the rest of the day. She misplaces the cleaning linens for the kitchen and later, Cook whacks her on the back of the head for being unresponsive when asked about the menu. Alice laughs when Kay rearranges the paintings in the halls for the sixth time.

Kay doesn’t have to search far for the lady; Everlyn is waiting for her by the vegetable patch. She’s not in her armor, though she still has her sword tied to her waist.

“Have you come across the Kenduskeag River during your outdoor excursions?” Kay asks.

“Yes, though Alice tells me it leads to a waterfall,” Everlyn says, excited at the prospect.

“I’ll show you the falls, then.”

They walk in silence together, and this too unsettles Kay. Not because the moment is weighed down with awkwardness, or the inability to know what to say. Everlyn’s face is smooth as she hums a little tune under her breath. And Kay feels the tension from the day loosening in her shoulders.

The silence is companionable, and Kay is unnerved by how lovely it is.

Everlyn whistles when they reach the clearing leading to the falls. “It’s gorgeous,” she says.

“Isn’t it?” Kay says, a little proudly. The waterfall is a gentle thing, the streams descending over a series of rock steps and cascading down to a clear pool.

Then Everlyn unties her sword and starts lifting her tunic up. “What are you doing?” Kay asks in bewilderment.

“Swimming,” Everlyn answers, eyes wide with laughter and mock-surprise. “That _is_ why you brought me here, is it not, lady innkeeper?”

“I thought you merely wanted to look at it!” Kay is unsure where to direct her gaze. Everlyn’s trousers drop to the ground.

“Looking and not using—those are pretty baubles,” Everlyn scoffs. She runs towards the falls and jumps straight into the pool.

Kay darts forward, just as Everlyn’s dark head surfaces from the water. “Are you mad?” Her voice is shrill. “What if it wasn’t deep enough? Or if there were snakes?”

“Kay, summer is almost at an end,” Everlyn cajoles. The water is chest-deep, and it laps up against her naked shoulders.

“When will we have a chance like this again?” She adds, as if Kay isn’t within moments of acquiescing. “Come bathe with me.”

How could Kay refuse? She strips down to her chemise and slowly dips into the pool.

In the halls, one of the paintings Kay treasures dearly is an image of a mermaid diving deeper into the blue depths, homebound to her sea castle. It evoked so much movement, as if the mermaid’s beautiful teal tail would start moving as she swam.

Everlyn moves much the same, often submerging underwater for long periods. Sometimes she resurfaces with a pretty stone in hand, or an exclamation about the fish swimming amidst them.

“You are an excellent swimmer, Everlyn,” Kay compliments, when Everlyn next comes up for air.

She grins. “A friend taught me,” she says. “Michael is his name. He taught me everything I know about the woods, and water besides.”

A softer, more unrecognizable expression crosses Everlyn’s face, and Kay looks at her for another moment before glancing away.

In between bouts of staring at her companion, Kay is content to float on her back, the water carrying her languidly around the pool. The sun is warm on her face as she stares up at the clear skies.

“Have you ever had roasted chestnuts, Kay,” Everlyn asks, wading next to where Kay still floats.

“Once, last winter,” she replies. “A few merchants that stayed at the inn gifted us a bag.”

Everlyn hums. “The first time I had one, I was tempted to eat the skin of it,” she shares. “Edward, another friend of mine, almost fainted when I mentioned it, but the color was so lush and beautiful. Your hair reminds me of the memory.”

“And did you,” Kay shifts to stand, the rocks and sand smooth under her feet. “Did you eat it.”

They both watch Everlyn’s fingers barely touch Kay’s hair where it drifts weightless above water. “I did,” Everlyn says, looking at Kay. “Just the once.”

Kay is instantly aware of their dishabille. Her chemise is translucent and soaked, clinging to the curves of her body. Everlyn swims closer to her, fallen flowers and leaves in her hair, and the lithe line of her body too much to behold.

Kay knows the concept of gifts; a thing freely given without any expectations. But she’s never had the luxury of gifts in her life. Even her mother’s last gift demanded something from her.

Being with Everlyn, at this moment and in this way, feels like a gift. And Kay has never felt more undeserving of it.

She knows what it feels to lose everything, and everyone. She will survive, however unpredictable the loss may look this time around.

“I must speak with you,” Kay says as calmly as she’s able.

They are a breath’s distance from each other, and Kay feels held by the weight of Everlyn’s regard. It is unsettling, as many things are with Everlyn, and yet not unwelcome at all.

“You may speak freely, my lady innkeeper,” Everlyn murmurs.

Kay closes her eyes, before Everlyn’s attention completely overwhelmed her. She thinks of tales such as this. The roles they play and the limitations that come with it. “Do you remember a moonless night, last autumn,” she starts, even though she knows the answer.

“Kay,” she murmurs. “Will you keep your gaze from me hereafter? Or merely during this conversation?”

Kay glances up at her then. Everlyn’s expression is patient and expectant. But Kay doesn’t dare name the light that softens Everlyn’s eyes. “You know,” she guesses.

The water ripples as Everlyn comes even closer. “Since the first night.”

“You—” When Kay shifts in surprise, Everlyn’s hands clasps hers under the water.

“Kay, your magic has been with me for more than a year,” Everlyn laughs softly.

“I would know you anywhere,” Kay confesses in a low voice, unable to keep this truth to herself.

Everlyn’s eyes widen at that; and then, “May I kiss you?”

Kay tilts her head up in answer.

The kiss is the first sip of cool water after an eternity of feeling parched.

v.

As Beverly grew older, the people of the kingdom grew further into despair. Their crops withered from dragon flames, their cattle stolen by skyward claws, their taxes far above their means. From the window of her room, Beverly heard their cries and burned from within.

She could not defy her father—how can a lone princess stand against a fire dragon, after all—but surely there must be something she could do.

And so she took her cloak and traversed to the Barrens one moonless night, against the counsel of her friends. When they reached the heart of the woods, a hooded witch waited expectantly for Beverly.

They struck a bargain, the witch and the princess. When the former disappeared into the shadows, the latter revealed her plan to the knights.

*

Later that night, they retire in Kay’s room. A wordless agreement made with a speaking glance in the halls during supper.

Everlyn is watching her from the bed as she goes about her night routine. She pretends that Everlyn’s attention doesn’t fluster her as she untangles the knots in her hair.

“It seems an unfair exchange,” Everlyn notes, as if continuing a previous conversation.

Kay stands from the vanity table and sits beside her. Everlyn is in a dressing gown, and nothing else, her head propped up by a hand. “I will tell you a story,” Kay says, taking Everlyn’s hand in hers. She feels a burst of warmth at the touch, before there’s nothing but the cool dryness of Everlyn’s palm and the calluses of Everlyn’s fingertips. Everlyn stares up at her, waiting.

Once upon a time, there was a girl and her mother who had magic in them. The mother had the Sight, and she earned their bread from glimpsing other people’s future.

But the dragon in the kingdom wrought terror and famine, and then no one wanted to see their future. The mother became ill, and the girl toiled for their living.

On her sickbed, the dying mother gave her daughter an inheritance, of sorts. She cannot pass her Sight, but she can give one last foretelling and a spell besides. She told her daughter: on a moonless autumn night, wait for the winter fire to light the Barrens. Wait, and then give that fire this spell I speak to you.

The girl, now a young woman, waited for many moonless nights on many autumns. Then one night, a princess illuminated the dark woods with the flames of her red hair. She sought a spell to help her people and defeat the dragon. And so the woman and the princess struck a bargain.

Kay’s smile widens at the sound Everlyn makes at this. But Everlyn keeps her silence, as she has for the entirety of the tale. Not once does she look away from Kay.

“The flame was magic itself and with it, the woman built a home for herself and those who wander the woods. So you see, it was an equal exchange, tailored to what both parties needed,” Kay ends. “She feels the flame’s beating warmth just underneath her fingertips, always.”

At this, Everlyn turns away, her hair a dark curtain over her face. “And how does a maiden with only an armor and her sword compare to such a flame?” she asks

Kay reaches out with a touch on Everlyn’s shoulder. “Oh darling,” she murmurs ruefully. “I’ve been given a gift, to know you in every form you let me see. It is pointless to compare.”

A companionable, ruminating silence descends. Kay basks in it and contents herself with finger-combing through Everlyn’s hair where it spills over her own lap. There is a warm spark of recognition under Kay’s hands whenever she brushes against the dark strands.

“Then if it pleases you,” Everlyn says finally, tilting her head so that she glances up at Kay. “Call me Beverly, my lady innkeeper.”

Kay shifts her hands from Everlyn’s hair to cup her jaw gently. “Only if it pleases you, Beverly,” she says, lowering her head to kiss Everlyn the knight, Beverly the princess, this person that has brought magic in Kay’s life.

vi.

A band of knights became known as the Seven, and the people revered them. For four seasons, the Seven put out fires and rebuilt villages. They fought off the dragon-king from stealing cattle. They stole back the people’s gold from corrupt lords and returned it. They were touched with magic. One need only call for help, and there the Seven would be.

Six of them often took off their visors, especially when facing the people. But when the people tried to recall their faces they only remembered a blur. The seventh is the only one armored in sleek bronze with a copper shaded sword, and it is this knight that led the other six.

The seventh knight never took off their helmet.

By the fourth season, the Seven have galvanized the kingdom into fighting against the dragon-king. Then the people’s growing strength became too untenable for the king to ignore.

King Marsh flew over the kingdom and roared in a voice that shook the land, the treasonous Seven must fight him like a true knight instead of usurping his kingdom like a dishonorable wretch.

For three days and three nights, King Marsh did this, unable to find the seven knights even as they continued to rebuild the kingdom under his nose.

On the fourth day, the bronzed seventh knight stood alone by the castle’s drawbridge.

*

Kay wakes in the middle of the night wide-eyed and alert, leaping over that moment between sleep and waking. She takes stock of herself, the dark room, then the empty, cold space beside her.

When she sits up, she notices Beverly standing by the window. Kay cannot see her face from here, and the moonlight illuminates her silhouette.

In the sennight they’ve been sharing a bed, this is the first Kay has woken in her sleep. It’s easy enough to imagine what has pulled Beverly from bed, but Kay wonders at the efforts it takes Beverly to bear it silently and tirelessly. Or if it still takes any effort at all, after all this time.

Beverly does not look away from the skies when Kay stands beside her. “My mother once said that dreams are like clothes the mind wears without our permission,” Kay says, staring up at the stars. “The garments can be beautiful or fantastical. It can also be so hideous that we wake with the effort of removing it.”

“And does your mind have a favorite garment?” Beverly asks with a glance at her.

“My mind has learned to keep it far away from my waking self,” Kay smiles wryly. “But when I was younger, oh, I remember dreaming of living in a cozy home with a dining table that never runs out of hot food.”

“A dream turned reality, with your inn,” Beverly notes, nodding thoughtfully. “Are you contented, then?”

Kay is familiar with Beverly’s methods of deflection, after observing from afar and experiencing it firsthand. But it continues to catch her off guard, the skillful way she wields her words like a shield and a pointed sword.

“I don’t know,” Kay replies after a moment. “I have everything I need. But perhaps I am merely afraid of what it will cost me to want more.”

Beverly reaches out to take Kay’s hand. “Sometimes a want is worth the cost,” she murmurs. “Being liberated from the fear of wanting is reward in itself.”

Kay thinks of Beverly wandering the Barrens every day and seeking some unknown thing, all the while knowing who and what Kay was. She thinks of how different Beverly is from the tales she’s heard, the solitary threads of truths in tapestry woven with lies. She thinks of the name Everlyn, and thinks that maybe Beverly’s been seeking herself, and not anything else.

“And are you contented now?” Kay asks.

Beverly laughs. “No,” the honesty of it wrapped in gentle warmth. “But I am willing enough to pay the costs of my wants.”

Kay takes this to memory, and folds it deep in the pockets of her mind’s garments. Then she pulls Beverly close until their bodies are pressed together. Her cold, numb fingers quickly grow warm in Beverly’s hands.

When they return to bed, the dark skies are transitioning to hues of indigo and purple, the moon and stars only barely visible. The few hours before dawn Kay spends tracing the constellations of freckles on Beverly’s skin. Beverly lets her, pressing kisses to Kay’s neck, where her pulse beats strongest.

vii.

When King Marsh flew out to greet the knight, he laughed until smoke wafted out of his great maw. He jeered at the knight and pushed them around with his terrifying claws. But the seventh only stood still, their copper sword drawn at the ready.

Finally, the dragon-king tired of the knight. King Marsh curled his claws around them and inhaled deeply, gathering the fire in his belly.

The knight moved lightning-quick, after that first breath. They easily sliced through the tough scales of King Marsh’s paw where it held them and, before falling to the ground, plunged the sword deep through the dragon’s throat.

At the dying scream of the dragon, the six knights rushed to the castle from a nearby town, where the seventh ordered them to lie in wait.

When they reached the castle, a maiden was kneeling over King Marsh’s human form. On either side of her was a bronze visor and a copper sword. Her pale face and bronze armor were dark with ash, and her black hair pooled down the cobblestoned floors like blood.

*

Then the turn of the season comes, and suddenly it is autumn. Kay watches the leaves from tree branches fall to the forest floors, a carpet of reds and browns. It is the season of reapings and endings and Kay has no desire to collect either.

Beverly seems to feel the same. She sleeps less in the night, wheedling stories from Kay about her magic, her mother, the various places they lived in before she settled in the woods. In turn, Everlyn tells Kay about her six friends, their adventures across the kingdom, the mischief she made as a young girl.

She still goes to the woods for hours at a time, tracking mud in the inn when she returns. She still laughs, and talks, and drinks with the other guests. But it feels like a frenzied flame, and Kay worries what may happen when that light suddenly goes out.

“I must speak with you,” Kay says later that night.

Beverly pauses from unpinning her hair. “You and I have always spoken freely with each other, I thought.”

Another diversion, Kay thinks with equal measures of despair and fondness. “I have found a way to reverse the spell.”

“I see.” Beverly lowers her hands. Her expression is a studied calmness. “And what of you and your inn?”

“I will manage, my darling,” Kay replies with a smile. Her thoughts turn, as they’ve oft turned in these past few days, to tales like this. Witches were not supposed to reverse spells, after all.

Kay has played her part well enough in the beginning. But she grows tired of playing roles.

Beverly clenches her jaw, even as she visibly relaxes her shoulders. “Then do with me what you will, my lady innkeeper,” she says lightly.

That is how they find themselves later that evening: Kay holding a comb and a pair of shears while Beverly sits in front of her on a stool, her head held up.

“Just before I met the knights, I had a favorite tutor,” Beverly shares, still in that casual tone. “I only had her for a short period of time, as my father eventually saw how much I admired her.”

Kay makes the first cut. She feels an ache under her hands as long swaths of dark hair fall to the ground. “Was she very knowledgeable, this tutor?”

“Oh yes,” she confirms. “She taught me history, the real history of Derry. But most of all, she taught me that love and duty are always intertwined. Perhaps more so for someone like me, she said.”

“And how did the young Beverly take this honest piece of advice?” Kay asks teasingly. Beverly’s hair is slowly turning into the color of fallen autumn leaves, and the aching has spread to Kay’s arms.

“Oh, the idea was completely unfathomable to her,” Beverly answers cheerfully. “But she learned soon enough.”

The spell’s reversal is a wordless kind of magic, made more powerful by the combined force of intent and action. By the time Beverly’s hair has returned to its crimson red, the length has drastically shortened. The blunt, slightly uneven edges stop just under her jaw.

Kay carefully sets down the comb and shears. “It’s done.”

Beverly stands, her hands curled into fists. “How do I look?” She asks with a winsome smile.

Kay hums thoughtfully. “Let me tell you a secret,” she says, gently thumbing the corner of Beverly’s upturned lips. “Part of the flame’s magic is a glamour that drew beings in and captivated them. It shifted rock and wood until the walls of my inn were built. It called wanderers and travelers here, despite being in the Barrens. It nudged my garden into blooming with fruit. It heightened the warmth and energy in the halls and gave comfort to my guests.

“But those who see the inn for what it is, just a humble inn in the woods, will not be snared by the glamour nor will they seek it,” Kay says firmly, cradling Beverly’s nape. Strands of her hair brush against Kay’s fingers. “And I see you, Beverly. I see you.”

“Oh, Kay,” Beverly laughs breathlessly against Kay’s temple, and in a certain light the laugh would sound like a gasp. “I have been terribly selfish.”

“If you think this is a sin only you’ve committed then I’m afraid I have news for you, my dear,” Kay murmurs.

“I’m afraid of being just like my father,” she confesses, still laugh-gasping. “Just a beast with an endless, greedy desire for things.”

The inn does not fall as Kay had secretly feared, but Beverly folds herself as small as she can in Kay’s arms. Beverly’s fallen hair looks like blood underneath their bare feet and Kay no longer feels the inn’s thrumming power under her hands. But she can hold Beverly and keep them both standing while they see this night through.

viii.

After the Seven buried the dead king, they faced the kingdom with Beverly at the helm. Her copper sword was slung across her waist, and her hair dark as midnight. She stared back at her people, with steely eyes and pale-faced determination.

A moment’s pause. Then Beverly said, in a low but clear voice that rings throughout the land, I am Princess Beverly and I, whom you call the Seventh Knight, killed the dragon.

Long live Queen Beverly, pronounced William the Great.

The people stayed as silent as the grave. And then, a lone voice in a sea of people called, _where is Princess Beverly the fairest maiden of all the land?_

This is she, Princess Beverly the Seventh Knight, said Benjamin the Noble.

 _But where is Princess Beverly with open, welcoming eyes?_ asked another.

This is she, Princess Beverly whose eyes have seen and helped you through fire and ash, reasoned Stanley the Wise.

 _But where is Princess Beverly with the soft, dawn-like skin?_ asked another.

This is she, Princess Beverly who rides across the kingdom tirelessly, as long as there is a call for help, pleaded Michael the Gentle.

 _But where is Princess Beverly with a voice that makes nightingales weep?_ asked another.

This is she, Princess Beverly who you only have to listen to, to hear her voice, yelled Edward the Brave.

_But where is Princess Beverly with beautiful crimson hair?_

This is she, Princess Beverly but perhaps none of you deserve her if that is your concern, mocked Richard the Brash.

 _Where is Princess Beverly?_ cried the people in rising distress.

Enough, Beverly’s voice cut through the chaos like a blade. If I must prove to my people that I am the rightful queen, then so be it.

And so she set off to find the witch she had bargained with. When the six knights entreated to join her, she smiled and shook her head.

I am entrusting my kingdom to you, my friends, while I am away, she said. With that, she left with nothing but the armor on her back and the sword on her hip.

*

After they sweep up the pile of red hair on the floor, Kay puts it in a leather pouch afterwards.

It is just past dawn, but it seems they barely have enough time left. She watches Beverly don her armor expertly and efficiently by herself. It’s changed color through the night, turning into a blackened steel that is reminiscent of Beverly-Everlyn’s hair. Kay wouldn’t be surprised if the sheathed sword has also transformed into a similar shade.

“You will not tie your hair?” Kay asks.

“It’s too short,” Beverly says. “And it’s the first thing the people will look at when they see me.”

And people see what they wish to see, no matter how deadly a thing looks. Kay feels something well up in her chest as she watches Beverly mutter curses while tying the scabbard of her sword to her waist.

Kay considers the things she is afraid to even imagine wanting. It feels like jumping off a cliff or uttering a spell for the first time, the lack of control and knowledge over what could happen thereafter. Then the exhilaration of jumping anyway despite everything.

“You never asked me why I told you who I was,” Kay says. “When we were in the falls.”

“I presumed it was out of guilt and your own sense of honor, my lady innkeeper,” Beverly says, smiling fondly.

Kay looks at her and fights the urge to shake her until the armor rattles off of her body. Kay has made a life of living with half-truths and she knows the tone and rhythm of that song well.

“It is not, in fact, either those things,” Kay replies, growing steadier in the face of Beverly’s half-frozen expression. “Will you not ask me now, so you may know how I regard you?”

At this, Beverly shakes her head violently, the red of her hair shining in the room. “Kay, I cannot ask it of you.”

“Then I will ask it of you, my lady,” Kay says quietly. “I trust you know that these next words are offered only with the hope that it will liberate me. I’m flattered you think that I am moved by a sense of honor, because the truth is I am rarely moved by such sensibility. I told you who I was and what I’ve done because I want you to see me. Just as honestly as I see you. I want you to know me, the way I know you. My life now does not leave me wanting. It is comfortable. But I am happy to leave this comfort if it leads me to you, and everything else I am afraid to want.”

“Oh,” Beverly’s voice trembles. She has covered her face with her hands mid-way through Kay’s speech. “Oh, Kay.”

Kay walks forward, placing her hands gently on Beverly’s waist. She’s careful of the sharp edges of the armor and the steel is cool to the touch. “I’m sorry to ask, my darling,” Kay murmurs. “But do you think you can find it in your heart to love a witch who stole a princess’ flame?”

When Beverly lowers her hands, her lashes are wet and her eyes are bright. “It seems a small thing to ask,” she whispers, laughing. “When you’ve bravely decided to love a dragon’s daughter.”

ix.

After a moon of searching, Beverly returned to the kingdom on horseback, with the witch riding alongside her. Although her hair was cropped short, it was red once again and the glamour removed. The people rejoiced as she rode by.

When she was crowned, she wore a blackened steel armor and steel sword, with Kay the witch by her right hand and the six knights by her left.

The kingdom prospered and thrived under her rule. And they lived happily ever after.

*

After Kay gives Alice’s instructions for keeping the inn until Kay’s visit on the next moon, she places the pouch underneath the floorboards by the entrance.

She sees the look Beverly gives her and merely smiles and says, “For good luck.”

“Are you ready?” Beverly asks after Kay mounts her own horse.

Kay smiles. “Yes.”

They leave the quiet of the woods, and into the open fields. Beverly leads the way, her hair shining like a thousand different sunsets. But Kay sets her gaze to the horizon, where the sky is clear and endless.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> 1\. This fic was inspired by three amazing wlw fairytale retellings. I highly recommend reading [Seasons of Iron and Glass](https://uncannymagazine.com/article/seasons-glass-iron/), [Windrose in Scarlet](https://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/windrose-in-scarlet/), and [my lady’s house](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22144807).
> 
> 2\. Please behold fairytale au [Beverly-Everlyn](https://twitter.com/nobeeps/status/1302515397132918784?s=20). 
> 
> 3\. I have a [clowntown tweeter](https://www.twitter.com/nobeeps), feel free to say hi and hmu about more clown-related things! honks.
> 
> ETA: there is now [fanart of Beverly](https://twitter.com/TibotaTabota/status/1315180453335232518?s=19) and it is THE MOST GORGEOUS PIECE. Please do check it out and give Rex some love!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [the ballad of the wandering knights](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28453197) by [mayerwien](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mayerwien/pseuds/mayerwien)




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